


sleepless nights and bright city lights

by ephemeralsky



Category: 30歳まで童貞だと魔法使いになれるらしい | 30-sai Made Doutei da to Mahou Tsukai ni Nareru Rashii (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post-Canon, feat. kurosawa's brand of midnight mischief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28682817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralsky/pseuds/ephemeralsky
Summary: Adachi hears a car barrelling through the streets below. It’s a quiet neighborhood in general, but in the deepest part of the night, every single noise sounds amplified.Or maybe that’s just his insomnia speaking.(or: Adachi and Kurosawa meander through the city on a cold winter night)
Relationships: Adachi Kiyoshi/Kurosawa Yuichi
Comments: 61
Kudos: 175





	sleepless nights and bright city lights

**Author's Note:**

> CW: None, but please let me know if you want me to add something.

Kurosawa is beautiful when he sleeps.

No, Adachi corrects himself, he is beautiful whether he is awake or asleep, but there is a nameless, mystifying quality to the way he looks with his eyes closed, his breathing peaceful and steady. Adachi doesn’t know what to call it, so he decides to settle on ‘beautiful’, even though the word feels like it falls short, like it doesn’t fully capture the effect it has on Adachi when he watches Kurosawa sleep. 

A wan beam of moonlight streams in from the windows as if passing through water. It spills over Kurosawa’s skin and drenches it into a shade of silver. The light is just potent enough to cast the shadow of Kurosawa’s eyelashes over his cheeks, and that, too, makes Adachi feel a strange sense of displacement, like he wished for a drop of water but received a deluge of rain instead. 

It isn’t a bad feeling; on the contrary, it actually feels nice, but Adachi doesn’t know how to properly describe it without sounding like a blathering idiot, so he won’t. 

He hears a car barrelling through the streets below. It’s a quiet neighborhood in general, but in the deepest part of the night, every single noise sounds amplified. 

Or maybe that’s just Adachi’s insomnia speaking.

With great effort, he contains a sigh. He doesn’t want to wake Kurosawa, but his inability to sleep is starting to annoy him, and he feels the need to get out of bed and _do_ something before he starts losing his mind. 

Slowly, Adachi sits up, careful not to dislodge Kurosawa’s arm from its place around his midriff. He painstakingly lifts Kurosawa’s arm and places it on the mattress once he maneuvers himself out of bed. 

Standing by the bed, Adachi releases a breath of relief. So far, so good. Kurosawa seems to still be blissfully asleep, undisturbed by Adachi’s restlessness. Adachi tiptoes around the bed, heading towards the bedroom door. 

He has his hand on the doorknob before he decides to pad quietly back towards the bed. He watches Kurosawa for a few seconds before he musters up enough courage to bend down and press a light kiss on Kurosawa’s cheek. 

Then he books the hell out of the bedroom, his own cheeks burning so hot they could start a fire. It isn’t even the first time he’s done it, but it still makes him ridiculously embarrassed. 

Once he’s in the living room, he takes a few moments to calm his racing heart. Then he switches on the lights, grabs a glass of water, and flops down onto the couch. 

While he sips on his water, he tries to figure out how to tire himself out so that he can go to sleep. He could watch some TV, or read something from Kurosawa’s bookshelves, or play on his Nintendo Switch. 

Resting his head back against the cushions, he lets out an aggrieved sigh. He could do any of those things, but he knows he won’t. He’s too high-strung to focus on anything, and he’s not really in the mood. Well, he’s out of bed now, so at least he can pace around without bothering Kurosawa’s sleep. 

After putting his glass of water on the coffee table, Adachi raises his feet up on the couch, folding his knees against his chest. The cuff of the pajama pants he’s wearing brushes against his ankles. If he stands, it would pool to the floor. 

The pants belong to Kurosawa. They’re a little long on Adachi, but they’re soft and comfortable, and Adachi likes wearing them. He can also tell that Kurosawa likes that Adachi likes them. 

Adachi sighs again. He almost wishes that Kurosawa was awake. It’s weird; Kurosawa is literally just a room away, and yet Adachi somehow misses him. Adachi has never thought that his life would be so deeply intertwined with somebody else’s like this. 

He lightly claps his cheeks to snap himself out of it. Then he gets to his feet and starts doing squats. Yeah, he thinks, he’ll just do this until he gets tired or until the sun rises. Whichever comes first.

Or, his brain supplies, he could just run through tomorrow’s plan for the billionth time, or he could just get his coat out of the closet and check the pocket real quick before -

“Adachi?”

Adachi yelps and jumps upright. 

“K-kurosawa,” he stammers, a hand over his chest. He almost had a heart attack, jeez.

“Is everything okay?” Kurosawa asks, walking towards Adachi. His voice is gravelly, rough with sleep, but his eyes are alert, a frown of concern furrowing his brows.

Adachi hastily nods. “Everything is fine. Sorry, did I wake you?”

Kurosawa shakes his head. ”There’s nothing to apologize for.” He just woke up, but his hair is far from unkempt. In fact, not a single strand is out of place. “The bed felt cold without you,” he adds, a teasing curl to his lips. 

Adachi ducks his head a little, staring down at his feet to hide his embarrassment. One would think that he would have grown used to Kurosawa’s mushiness by now. “I - I see. Then maybe we should just get back to bed.”

Kurosawa dips his head down just enough so that he can peer at Adachi’s face. He brushes Adachi’s bangs away from his eyes and asks, “Were you having a hard time sleeping?”

Adachi bites his lower lip, then reluctantly nods. 

Kurosawa smiles a little. Gently, he guides Adachi towards the couch and sits him down. 

“Do you want something hot to drink?” Kurosawa asks. 

“No,” Adachi answers, “I’m good.”

Kurosawa settles down beside him, tilting his head to the side as he thinks. “Then, what about a movie?”

“Eh?” 

“Maybe we can find something on Netflix,” Kurosawa suggests, getting up to retrieve the remote control. 

Adachi catches his hand before he could. “You’re not going back to sleep?”

Kurosawa looks slightly confused. “No?”

“No?” Adachi parrots.

A look of understanding dispels the confusion from Kurosawa's face. He gives Adachi a soft smile. “I want to accompany you. Is that okay?”

“Oh,” Adachi breathes out. “Oh. Um, yes. I - I would like that.”

Kurosawa’s smile widens, crinkling the corner of his eyes. He gets the remote control and passes it to Adachi. He tells him to choose any title before disappearing somewhere. When he returns, he has a blanket in his arms. He spreads it over their laps as he settles next to Adachi. 

Shyly, Adachi inches closer to him, until their thighs and arms are touching. Kurosawa gets the memo and happily loops his arm around Adachi’s shoulder. They share a smile before Adachi plays a random movie from Netflix’s recommendation section. 

Ten minutes into the movie and Adachi starts fidgeting with the blanket, twisting a frayed thread around his fingers as he chews on his lips. When he starts bouncing his knee, Kurosawa turns to him and asks, “Do you want to change it to something else?”

Adachi barely quells a flinch. He wishes he could stop being so damn jittery for _one_ second. “No, no, this is fine.”

Kurosawa searches his face. “Are you sure?”

Adachi sighs for the umpteenth time that night. “No,” he admits, “I’m not sure. I actually don’t know what I want to do. I just -” he waves his hands around - “feel so nervous.”

“Nervous?” Kurosawa sits up straighter, clearly worried. “About what?”

Adachi’s brain short-circuits. He opens and closes his mouth, scrambling for an answer. “N-nothing in particular. It happens sometimes. I would just get anxious and a little tense for no reason, and I wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink.”

It’s actually the truth, but it doesn’t really apply to this particular night. Tonight, he knows precisely why he’s anxious, but he’s not going to tell Kurosawa _that._

Kurosawa nods, expression serious like he’s in one of their company meetings. He curls a hand under his chin as he mulls over something. Adachi examines his face, trying to find a clue to what he’s thinking, but doesn’t get anywhere.

He does, however, pinpoint the exact moment an idea pops into Kurosawa’s head.

Kurosawa leans towards Adachi, a gleam in his eyes. “Want to go out for a bit?”

*

“It’s really empty, huh?” Adachi says, glancing around the streets. It _is_ past 2 in the morning, so he’s not really surprised. 

“There would probably be more people and cars once we get to the main street,” Kurosawa responds. “It’s pretty chilly too, so that also might be why there are less people than normal. Are you warm enough?”

Nodding, Adachi touches the tail of the scarf that’s wound around his neck. He pinches the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, marveling at its warmth and softness. 

It’s actually Kurosawa’s scarf, the same one he lent Adachi that night they worked late together and Kurosawa invited him over to his place for the first time. Just like that night, Kurosawa had gently and meticulously secured it around Adachi’s neck before they went out just now.

“Good,” Kurosawa says, smiling at him. That, too, helps keep Adachi warm.

Kurosawa was right. Once they leave the residential area, they see more people out and about. It’s still pretty deserted and quiet though, which Adachi likes. 

“I haven’t been out this late in a while,” he remarks as they pass by a few closed restaurants.

“DId you use to go out at night a lot?” 

“No way,” Adachi says with a scoff. “I’m a homebody, remember?”

Kurosawa chuckles. “People change. You could be the type who liked to prowl the streets at night and I would be none the wiser.”

Adachi rolls his eyes at the joke. “People don’t change _that_ much.”

Kurosawa chuckles again. Then he points to a Lawson across the street. “Let’s go there.”

The doors to the convenience store open with a muted _whoosh._ There aren’t any customers inside, and there are no staff members to be seen either. Standing in the snack aisle under the white fluorescent lights with muzak floating through the air like wind chimes, Adachi feels like they’ve been transported to an alternate dimension altogether.

“Oh!” Adachi exclaims.

“What is it?” Kurosawa asks.

Adachi leads him to one of the freezers, where all the ice creams are. “That one,” he says, gesturing towards a limited edition parfait. “I’ve been trying to get that for a while now, but it’s always sold out.”

Kurosawa smiles. “I guess it’s your lucky night, then.”

With a quiet _yay_ , Adachi takes the parfait out and holds it between his hands. They complete a circuit around the store before they see an employee restocking the canned food shelf. Adachi takes his wallet out to pay at the register, but Kurosawa beats him to it and gets himself a meat bun in the process. 

Adachi really needs to work on his reflexes; he has no idea how Kurosawa can whip out his wallet so fast.

They sit on the curb outside the store to eat. The bite of the night air is sharper, like it could blister the skin on Adachi’s face. He’s glad that he layered up before they went out; he was ready to just throw on his coat over his t-shirt and be done with it, but Kurosawa had insisted that he don a sweater as well.

“Is it good?” Kurosawa asks, reaching out to wipe the corner of Adachi’s mouth with his thumb.

Adachi nods enthusiastically, mouth full of the strawberry-flavored parfait. 

“I’m glad,” Kurosawa says before he starts eating the meat bun. 

“I haven’t done something like this since college,” Adachi says between bites. “Tsuge and I rarely went out at night or on the weekends, but sometimes we would get hungry in the middle of the night, so we’d go to a _konbini_ and get some snacks. Then we’d sit outside and eat, just like this.”

“What was your favorite snack back then?”

“Pringles,” Adachi answers without even having to consider it. 

“You still like them now though,” Kurosawa remarks.

“Like I said -” Adachi says with a shrug. “People don’t change that much. What about you? How did you spend your weekends in college?”

“Sometimes I’d go out if my friends invited me for drinks or karaoke, but most of the time, I stayed in to do my assignments or read a novel, maybe watch a movie.”

“Really? That’s unexpected.”

Kurosawa huffs out a laugh. “Why is it unexpected?”

“I mean, you’re so popular and all, so I thought your weekends would have been more… eventful.”

Wryly, Kurosawa says, “You think too highly of me.” He hums, thinking. “There were weekends where I was swamped with club activities. Would that count as being ‘eventful’?”

“I’d say so, yeah.” Adachi narrows his eyes, slanting Kurosawa a sly look. “See? I told you that popular guys are different.”

Kurosawa laughs again. “What’s that supposed to even mean?”

Adachi laughs too, a steam of hot breath coming out of his mouth like a smoking chimney trail. 

When they’re done eating and start wandering again, Adachi cranes his head back a little and exhales through his mouth, watching the vapors drift upwards and vanish just as quickly as they appeared. 

Beside him, Kurosawa does it a couple of times too, which weirdly pleases Adachi. 

Kurosawa’s knuckles graze against his own as they walk, sending a jolt of electricity up Adachi’s spine. He glances down at the space between their hands, then inconspicuously tucks his other hand into the pocket of his coat. He closes his fist around the box that’s stored there, as if for good luck, before he lets go of it and takes his hand out. 

“When I was little,” he says, “I used to spend hours outside during winter just to exhale through my mouth and see the breath clouds. My mom would have to bring me back inside, and then she’d fuss over how blue and chapped my lips had gotten.”

Kurosawa raises an eyebrow. “That’s understandable. I’d fuss too.”

Adachi scratches his nose, slightly embarrassed. “Yeah, well, it was easy to lose track of time when I was doing it.”

Kurosawa’s hand slips into his, like a key fitting into a lock. “Feel free to do it as much as you like and lose track of time.” He gives Adachi’s hand a comforting squeeze. “I’ll be here and make sure that you don’t get too cold from staying outside too long.”

Adachi buries his mouth under Kurosawa’s scarf as he jerks his head in a nod. This way, he can hide the big, dopey smile he has on his face.

They amble past an elementary school and a park before they come across a playground. Tugging on Adachi’s hand, Kurosawa steers them towards it, flashing Adachi a mischievous grin. He only lets go of Adachi’s hand when they’re at a swing set. 

Kurosawa sits on one of the swings, holding onto the chains, and smiles up at Adachi. “I haven’t been on one of these in ages.”

With a kick to the ground, Kurosawa starts swinging, laughing softly as he does. Adachi feels himself smiling at the sight. He takes a seat on the swing next to Kurosawa, slowly rocking back and forth as he continues staring at Kurosawa. Sitting in an empty playground in the middle of the night like this, it feels like they are the only two people left in the world.

The chains creak as Kurosawa gradually comes to a halt. 

“It’s always been my favorite ride on the playground,” he tells Adachi. 

The street lamp across the playground flickers. A bird takes flight from a nearby tree; the flutter of its wings sounds like the thump of a heartbeat. Kurosawa’s voice is quiet, like feathers are wafting down from his mouth, but his eyes are startlingly bright. There is a peculiar frailty to the way he looks right now, like his strong features have somehow been rendered softer by the night. 

Adachi’s mouth feels dry. He tears his gaze away from Kurosawa, clearing his throat before he says, “I used to be a little scared of going on the swings. I eventually grew to like it, but it had never been my favorite.”

“Oh?”

“I liked the sandbox.”

“You have excellent taste,” Kurosawa says seriously. 

Adachi turns to look at him. They burst into a laughing fit as soon as their eyes meet. Once they recover, Kurosawa migrates to the jungle gym, where he effortlessly swings from one bar to the next. Adachi scrounges up enough determination to have a go at it, but he only stays hanging because Kurosawa is supporting some of his weight from below. 

At the last rung, Adachi suddenly feels himself being lifted. He lets out a strangled yelp and hunches forward to wrap his arms around Kurosawa’s head. 

Kurosawa, being Kurosawa, only laughs. 

Cautiously, Adachi relaxes his grip and lets himself be carried. He tips his head back and gazes up at the sky. He spots the blinking red light of an airplane, then another. It’s a pity that they can’t really see any stars, but Adachi thinks there’s something nice about knowing that they’re still out there, despite their invisibility.

Adachi shifts his attention back to their surroundings. The doors to a nearby _izakaya_ slide open with a noisy rattle. A cat jumps down from the window of a two-storey building and slinks into the shadows of an alley. In the distance, there is the blare of sirens and the screech of tires against asphalt. In Adachi’s head, it feels very, very still.

He has been through this city numerous times. The faded posters on the shop windows, the rusty chain link fence that runs parallel to the train tracks, the weeds that sprout along the crevices of old buildings, the rows of rowdy parlors in the shopping district, the blinding neon lights that illuminate the night - he has them etched into his memories, but there is a new glow to them as he looks on from this vantage point, in this specific moment in time. 

“Kurosawa,” Adachi says.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Kurosawa doesn’t say anything, but Adachi knows that he’s smiling. The full moon, hanging low in the winter sky, paints his hair in a glossy, almost otherworldly shimmer. 

After a while, Kurosawa lets Adachi get down from his shoulders. Adachi doesn’t understand how he can carry around another grown man so easily, but Adachi can’t say he dislikes it. 

They hold hands as they continue walking aimlessly. Adachi looks down at their shadows each time they pass under a street lamp. Two amorphous figures, connected by their hands. Adachi makes a mental note to draw it next time.

A few cars trundle by as they cross a bridge, the snarl of their engines echoing through the streets. Adachi catches something out of his peripherals; he pulls Kurosawa towards the railing and points down to the water below them. 

“Look,” he says. 

Kurosawa squints at the object Adachi is pointing at. “A lantern?”

“I think so.” Adachi follows it with his eyes, watching as it floats further down the river. “There’s only one. I wonder where it came from.”

Kurosawa taps his thumb against Adachi’s knuckles. Adachi slides a questioning gaze his way.

“Want to walk by the river?” Kurosawa asks, tilting his head in the direction of the lantern. 

Adachi smiles at him and nods. 

They cross the bridge and make their way down towards the river bank. The crisp grass blades and hard dirt crunch underneath Adachi’s shoes. The river burbles beside them as they walk along the water’s edge. The lantern has long disappeared from view, but Adachi doesn’t mind. He likes to imagine that a precocious teenager somewhere had lit it up and released it, letting their surreptitious wishes drift out towards the sea along with the lantern.

Adachi’s stomach growls. As if the universe heard it, they stumble upon an oden cart a few steps later. The person manning the stall - swaddled in a thick coat and heavy scarf - welcomes them with an exuberance that feels offbeat at 5 in the morning. 

They share a bowl, but they’re more peckish than they thought they were, because they end up buying three servings in the end. Adachi gets to pay this time, but only because he beats Kurosawa in a round of rock-paper-scissors. 

They sit on the slope of the river bank afterwards, their stomachs full and their bodies warmed. The night is ending; on the horizon, Adachi can see the first mellow rays of sunlight. A flock of birds flits over the skyscrapers with a chorus of chirps, as if heralding the approaching dawn. Adachi feels a little wistful at the thought. 

“What are you thinking about?” Kurosawa asks. He’s sitting cross-legged beside Adachi on the grass, the lines of his body loose and relaxed. His lips are red from the heat of the oden broth, and his cheeks are stained a flattering pink. Adachi thinks that he has never looked more beautiful.

Gulping, Adachi licks his lips. “I’m… thinking about how sad it is, that the night is over.” 

Kurosawa hums in agreement. “It makes me sad too.” His face then breaks into a broad smile, his eyes scrunched up in mirth. “But it makes me happy too, that a new day is coming, and that I get to spend it with you.”

The stiff smell of ice clings in the air, but Adachi feels warm, right down to the tips of his fingers. He wonders if it will snow later. He hopes it will. 

“Oh,” Kurosawa murmurs with quiet awe, “the sun is rising.”

He has his gaze fixed towards the horizon, where the color of the sky is melded into an interfusion of pink and blue, with streaks of gold soaring and piercing through the mist. 

With a deep breath, Adachi clutches the box in his coat pocket, then takes it out. It feels right that he does this now. No other moment can compare to this.

He knots his fingers in the sleeve of Kurosawa’s coat and tugs it to call his attention. He doesn’t know how well his voice is working right now. 

Immediately, Kurosawa looks at him. “What is it?” he asks kindly.

“Y-yuichi,” Adachi says, tumbling over the word. He feels a blush crawling its way up his cheeks. 

They don’t call each other by their first names very often. Saying Kurosawa’s given name, or hearing Kurosawa say _Kiyoshi,_ still gives him a heady rush of adrenaline even now. 

Kurosawa doesn’t react beyond a miniscule quirk of his eyebrows, but he still looks politely curious, nodding his head to encourage Adachi to go on.

Buoyed by the thrum of adrenaline running under his skin and the thrill of Kurosawa’s undivided attention, Adachi says, “Two years ago, you bought us matching pens and asked me to be together with you forever and I said yes, so I know this is kind of redundant - or rather, it’s not like our society even mandates that couples exchange rings when they get married to show their commitment, but I thought that it would be - that it would be nice to have them, even though I used to be a bit embarrassed by the very thought of wearing them, but I guess it’s irrelevant to mention that now. Well, I mean -”

Oh, god. He’s rambling, and he’s botching this proposal. Oh, dear god. What is he _doing_? He had a whole itinerary planned for their day off tomorrow - today, actually, since it’s already morning - but here he is, wrecking everything and not giving Kurosawa the proposal he deserves, and now Kurosawa is going to hate - 

“Kiyoshi,” Kurosawa says, corking Adachi’s spiraling thoughts. The way he says Adachi’s name conveys everything Adachi needs to hear. 

Patiently, tenderly - he curls a warm hand around Adachi’s wrist. The corner of his lips curves into a smile, gentle as snow. His dark eyes are shiny with unshed tears. 

Adachi thinks about the enormity of his feelings for Kurosawa. Restless nights and queasy mornings, sweet desserts and delicious side dishes, mundane routines and unforeseen surprises - all these and everything in between, he used to experience alone. But he knows now how it feels to have somebody to share them with. He’s too spoiled to go back now. 

He doesn’t want to go back. 

“Yuichi,” Adachi says, voice wavering only slightly, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Please marry me.”

Kurosawa works his throat. His smile blooms wider as he says, “Yes.”

Adachi’s vision blurs, tears springing to his eyes. His cheeks ache from the force of his smile. He fumbles with the small, non-descriptive box in his hands, but Kurosawa helps him with it. A wet laugh escapes Kurosawa when he sees that there are two matching gold bands inside the box. 

With trembling hands, Adachi slips one of the rings through Kurosawa’s finger. Kurosawa does the same for him, before he launches forward and throws his arms around Adachi. 

They both topple to the ground, arms wrapped tightly around each other. Adachi laughs through the tears streaming down his cheeks, senselessly happy. 

Adachi doesn’t know how long they stay like that, hugging on the cold, brittle grass with their eyes closed. By the time Adachi opens his eyes, the sky has turned a few shades brighter. Kurosawa lifts himself up by the elbows, just far enough to look into Adachi’s eyes. 

Framed by the rose-golden light of dawn with a piece of grass stuck in his hair, Kurosawa has never looked more perfect. 

Adachi surges upwards and kisses him on the mouth. Kurosawa makes a startled noise at the back of his throat, then returns the kiss just as eagerly. Adachi feels the shape of Kurosawa’s smile against his mouth. Happiness swells in his chest like a balloon, washes over him like a tidal wave, envelops his entire being like an embrace. 

Around them, the city flutters awake. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I wrote something so sappy. Who am I. What has Cherimaho turned me into.
> 
> Let me know what you think of this! It's my first CM fic so I wasn't sure if I got their vibes right :')
> 
> My [tumblr](http://nakasomethingkun.tumblr.com).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] sleepless nights and bright city lights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29897214) by [rhythmia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhythmia/pseuds/rhythmia)




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